


A Toast to Preparation

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Based on promo pics for 3x18, F/M, First Dates, Undercover as a Couple, episode speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 08:46:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6650929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jemma and Fitz definitely aren’t on a real date. But that doesn’t make it feel any less like one.</p><p>Based on promo pics for 3x18.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Toast to Preparation

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the promo pics for AoS 3x18 ([here](http://unbreakablejemmasimmons.tumblr.com/post/143033857762/jemsfitz-jemmasimmuns-bye-yall-jemma-looks) and [here](http://unbreakablejemmasimmons.tumblr.com/post/143328775582/jemmasimmuns-its-been-10-years-we-cant-waste)). Spoilers for those pics; speculation for what might happen in the episode.

"Be cool, be calm. Just walk in like you’re meant to be here,” Jemma muttered under her breath as they strode through the entrance of the hotel bar. By her side, Fitz smirked.

“Are you talking to me or to yourself?”

She nudged him with her elbow. “Even the most seasoned of agents struggle with undercover work,” she said quietly, tilting her head so her mouth drifted close to his ear. If she leaned in a bit closer to him than necessary, well, the heady scent of the cologne or aftershave he’d apparently decided his undercover persona would wear was clearly to blame for that.

"Can I help you?” asked the hostess, shifting her narrowed gaze between the two of them.

“We’re just going to grab a drink in the lounge,” Fitz said confidently, nodding to the plush sofas and tables tucked away in the corner of the bar. The hostess shrugged one bored shoulder; Jemma and Fitz weaved through the bar patrons and tables until they reached an empty booth.

“This place looks nice,” Fitz noted as he sat down on the opposite side of the booth from Jemma, surveying the room. He set the equipment case on the seat beside him, pulling it protectively against his thigh. “Guess it’s the kind of place that Devon Thurman and Greta Banks would go on a Tuesday night out,” he said, referring to their carefully crafted undercover personas.

Jemma rolled her eyes. “I’m sure Greta loves the cocktails here,” she replied, lowering her voice as a server approached with an empty drink tray tucked under her arm.

“Can I get you two anything?”

Fitz quirked an eyebrow at Jemma, silently communicating to her that wouldn’t it look odd for Greta and Devon to visit the bar and forego ordering drinks? She nodded minutely, scanning the drink menu the server proffered.

“I’ll have the lavender-infused mojito, and a Macallan 10 for him, please, neat.” She smiled as the server disappeared, then turned back to Fitz, who watched her with brows raised. “What?” She shrugged innocently. “Greta seems like the type to take charge.” She let herself drink in the awestruck expression on Fitz’s face, savoring his tiny half-smile, then pinned him with a look. “Was I wrong about the Macallan?”

“No! ‘Course not.”

“Good, then.” She crossed her legs-- hindered only slightly by the supple leather of her brand-new pants-- and leaned back in the booth. She eyed the glasses Fitz wore with an amused smile. “Can you see in those things?”

He chuckled. “They’re not too strong. Just readers. Thought they suited the look.” Jemma wrinkled her nose, and he frowned. “You don’t like them?”

The truth was, she liked the entire look very much, glasses included. He looked incredibly dashing and handsome. He just didn’t look entirely like _him_. “I do like them, Fitz, they just-- they hide your face, a bit, is all. And I quite like having an unimpeded view of it.”

He ducked his head to hide a smile, and she wondered if maybe he was blushing as he reached up and slid the glasses off. He tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket and met her eyes again. “Better?”

She grinned. “Much.”

They eyed each other in silence for a moment-- the kind of silence that had fallen on them often lately, thick with unquantifiable electricity-- before the server returned, setting a pair of drinks on the reclaimed wooden trunk serving as a table in front of them.

Jemma picked up her glass and held it aloft. “Shall we?” He grasped his own tumbler and held it up next to hers.

“What shall we toast to?” he asked. “A successful mission? Saving Daisy?”

“To saving Daisy, definitely,” she said, clinking her glass against his. The toast sobered her a bit, even though she knew they were doing everything in their power as a team to track down Daisy and Hive. If the evening’s mission went according to plan, she and Fitz would be walking out of the bar with a component critical to removing Hive’s thrall over their friend. She refused to let the fact that at the moment, she felt more like a woman on a date with her boyfriend than an undercover SHIELD agent overshadow that.

Still, though, they were under strict instructions to simply wait it out and act natural until their mark arrived. Natural, like two people on a date in a posh hotel bar. Like _Greta and Devon_ on a date in a posh hotel bar. She set her drink back down on the trunk and tilted her head to the side.

“What are you doing all the way over there?” she said in what she hoped was her sultriest, most flirtatious voice. She seemed to have succeeded, if the way Fitz widened his eyes and quickly swallowed a too-large mouthful of Scotch was any indication.

“All the way over… where?” He looked side to side, his face endearingly confused, and she let the false persona give way to a warm smile.

“Oh, Fitz. We’ve got to make sure people buy this cover of ours, you know. Pretty sure Greta would want Devon to sit a bit closer to her than that.”

Fitz let out a breathy chuckle, then nodded, pushing himself further along the bench until his knees brushed against hers. Slowly, he slid his arm along the back of the booth behind her, and angled his head toward her own. “Better?” he asked again, voice low.

Jemma felt a shiver down her spine at the timbre of his voice. Without hesitating, she slipped the fingers of one hand up and over his thigh to grasp his own hand where it rested in his lap, watching the easy way he immediately began to run his thumb back and forth along her knuckles. “Much.”

She looked back up at him, and couldn’t help but smile at the way he was watching her. _Bet Devon’s never looked at Greta quite like that_ , she thought to herself, feeling a bit smug.

“Devon and Greta are pretty good at this date stuff, huh?” said Fitz, a hint of self-deprecation coloring his tone. Jemma squeezed his fingers with hers.

“They’ve got nothing on us.”

He laughed dryly. “We haven’t even been on a real date yet. Other stuff keeps gettin’ in the way.”

She had to hold her tongue against making a joke about the cosmos, but she knew it wasn’t the time. Instead, she scooted even closer to Fitz, extracting her hand from his so that she could run it up his chest to his shoulder, appreciating the feel of the expensive suit fabric under her touch. She played with his shirt collar for a few seconds before sliding her hand against his neck and gazing up into his eyes.

“But Fitz,” she said softly-- no need to speak up when his face was mere inches away from hers-- “Just think how much practice we’ll have had when we do have a real first date.” She smiled widely at the thought. “We’re going to ace it.”

“It’s not an exam, Jemma,” he said, trying to look stern even as his eyes danced across her face. She rolled her eyes at that-- _not an exam, really_ \-- and stretched the few inches necessary to press her lips against his softly, slowly, her fingers stroking just below his earlobe and his arm automatically wrapping around her shoulders. She melted into him for a moment before pulling away, her eyes slow to open.

“It’s not?” she asked, hand trailing back down to rest on his chest. Fitz let out a shaky breath and smiled.

“I take it back. You’re gonna get top marks.”

Jemma laughed, going back in for one more quick kiss and smiling against his mouth as she whispered, “We both will.”

**Author's Note:**

> Want to hang out on Tumblr? I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there!


End file.
